


Friendsim Fics!

by Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Alternia, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Troll Culture (Homestuck), Typing Quirks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:11:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX/pseuds/Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX
Summary: If you're browsing this fandom you probably like Hiveswap, and spending time with some of it's characters. Consider this a place to do that.Essentially I'm going to try and post every oneshot I make of the characters here. As for WHEN I do so: whenever I've got the time and it strikes my fancy, really.





	Friendsim Fics!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Here’s to hoping ya folks enjoy it. That being said if I messed up, be it in structure or just typos, feel free to tell me. Wanna get better at writing and that's a lot easier to do with -constructive- criticism

Friendsim Oneshots!

By Internet Xxx_Pl0r3r_xxX

Chapter 1: Polypa, Moirallegiance

"No* No* N- wait*... No*|" You continue to scroll through the list of movies Mallek helped you pirate onto your computer, or "Husktop" as everyone seems to call them here. Given that it looks like someone sawed a beetle in half and shoved electronics into it, you can see why. You can also now picture Steve Jobs being a taxidermist, but that's beside the point. While seeking out more and more friends seems to be your new lease on intergalactic life, you have managed to grow somewhat as a person, and one of the things you know you ought to do is spend time with the people most special to you. At least, a bit more time than with other people. While you had the textbook definitions of how relationships worked on earth, you still struggled with the actual application. Now that you're trapped in this grimdark neverland of a planet named Alternia, you're even more confused. Here's what you've managed to piece together so far:

-Matespritship- Pretty much identical to a normal loving relationship on Earth. Trolls swap out the word "love" with "pity" but they act the same way, so you can pretty much just handwave that.

-Kismesissitude- Like an intense rivalry where you frequently bone. It still feels somewhere between a species wide kink and a cultural justification for shitty fanfic to you.

-Auspisticism- You're not even sure you spelled that one right, but it's pretty much being a mediator. Not so much for killing, folks around here do that anyways, but more so for feelings.

And, finally,

-Moirallegiance- The one you probably have the least of a grasp on. You're pretty sure it's largely friendship based, AKA right up your alley, but people's explanations seem to range everywhere from being best friends to being co-dependent, to suggestions of low-key intimacy. The one you find yourself in doesn't help to make the distinction either.

Which is how we finally segue back to your current predicament of scrolling through pirated alien chick-flicks in your makeshift hideout desperately trying to find something that Polypa doesn't immediately shoot down. Apparently, movies like these were close to the only way she relaxed (outside of Tegiri's anime club) whenever she wasn't murdering people for rent. Saying it in your head briefly reminds you that you're on an otherworldly hellscape filled with murderous Juggalo’s and red-room livestreams, but honestly, you're used to stuff like that by now. You check the lower right-hand corner of the husktop, responding automatically to Polypa's robotic "No's" while converting the time over to an Earth standard in your head and estimate that you've been doing this for 20 solid minutes. You gently suggest that maybe, just maybe, even rewatching an old movie could be a nice way for Polypa to unwind. "Sure* this is taking too long anyways*|" "Because of you" you think but decide against saying. You randomly scroll up and down the list as fast as possible until Polypa tells you to stop, then move the mouse up and down in a similar fashion. "Stop*| Mmm*... yeah okay* this one's not too bad*|" You breathe a sigh of relief as you double click the selected file and the projector connected to the husktop (donated by Zebede) flashes to life, painting the cliffside wall of your house in semi-transparent color. The usual pre-movie signs you've grown used to play out for a few moments, except on Alternia instead of the FBI warning you about piracy fines, you're reminded that your existence and privilege to view film are all thanks to the gracious generosity of her imperious yadda yadda yadda totalitarian murder empire. 

You've managed to build a pretty cozy couch/bed against the parallel wall, and rest on it with Polypa, opening a bag of dried sliced ground tuber bits. Or chips. Far be it from the aliens that speak the same language to use the same easy terms. The opening credits finish up and the projection fades to a scene of a cafe, the camera seeming to be as close to the ground as possible as to only catch the patrons’ shoes. "It's coming back to me now*| The camera work in this movie was pretty experimental but the overall script isn't crap*| Well* at least not complete crap*|" Polypa comments. You've had dates(?) like this before with her, and it always seems to boil down to picking something she manages to know like the back of her bandaged hand and listening half to the actual movie, half to her play by play synopsis. It's... not the most enjoyable way to spend a calm night together, if you're being honest with yourself, but you try to think of her throughout it all. Her job is nothing but killing, running and hiding, and then more killing. Even for the standards of her culture, it's a harsh life, and even for someone as strong as her, it's one that can wear away at you something fierce. As grating as the constant moaning over production values can be, it's infinitely less stressful than trying to remember how to properly shoosh-pap when she's about to have an episode, which has thankfully only ever happened once. It was the first time you had a movie night with her, actually.

The first thing she did after coming inside was punch the wall hard enough to leave a dent, which you've since hung a picture of Lady over. When you finally got her to say something other than curses and general yelling, she explained how one of her long-standing contacts had been "made an example of" by a rival job-fixer of higher caste. Blood color really didn't matter to her, but the fact that one of the few people she could come close to calling a friend was killed over business monopolization was too much for her to process rationally. From what you could gleam she went full Kill-Bill after finding out, and needed to lay low for a bit, stopping at your place first on her trip across the back-country due to your prior schedule. And, you like to think, because you can genuinely help her feel better. If you're being honest with yourself, you get the feeling tonight might wind up being similar. Something seems to be bugging her, more so than usual. You've never been the most tactful person but even you internally wince as you just come out and ask her what's wrong. You prepare yourself for some kind of back and forth or snide comment but instead she just sits there, staring ahead at the screen silently. After an uncomfortable stretch of this, you get up and pause the movie, sitting back down next to her. You wait for her to say something, anything, but she just keeps sitting there, motionless, dull. You shakily reach out your hand, tapping at hers.

Suddenly your fingers are intertwined as she grabs back, pulling you into a half headlock-half hug with her free arm before you can react. It's tight, almost like she's clinging to you. You're terrified to say the least. "You'll leave someday*| You're gonna leave just like everyone fucking else and then I'm gonna be alone again*|" You rouse, the friend instincts inside of you suddenly burning at this out-of-nowhere claim. You vigorously assert that you'd never leave her whilst breaking out of the uncomfortable chokehold she has you in. You remind her that she means quite a bit to you, even if you're still relatively new developments in each other’s lives. That you think she's strong (emotionally and definitely physically), smart, beautiful, funny, every positive trait you can think of really. You mean every last one. She seems to slacken, now staring downwards and refusing to meet your eyes. You gently grab her shoulders and ask, in the softest voice you can manage whilst still being heard, what is going on. Your heart nearly stops when she looks up. Oh fuck, is she about to start crying? 

"You're an alien*|" So? You haven't been killed yet, hell most people around here seem to enjoy having you around, that's no reason for you two not to be able to work it out- "IT FUCKING IS!*|" She roars, cutting you off midsentence and sending you onto your back with a yelp. "WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I GET CALLED UP* HUH!?*| What happens when I'm told I need to ship off-world or get shot on sight?*| You're alive because at the end of the day you and me and everyone else are still technically just kids!*| We don't give a shit about anything!*| But once my next wriggling day comes around my job goes from killing other trolls to killing anything without horns or slapping chains on it* including you* dipshit!*|" You get back up and tell her you can just slip back into the shadows, hide yourself away. You're getting pretty used to moving around Alternia... Alternia, the planet she's forbidden from ever coming back to. Oh. "Yeah*Oh*|" You honestly don't know what to say at this point. She's right, she's absolutely right. Best case scenario she gets to bring you across the galaxy as more of a pet than a moirail, and that's if someone doesn't decide to do something like eat you because they're bored. You've lost track of how many times you've had to say this by now, but the silence is almost palpable.

"I've lost everyone* Okay?*| My lusus* my last few partners* even my damn fixer*| I'll still have Tegiri and I mean he's* really... 'something'* but...*|" She takes your hand again, and looks you straight in the eyes as she says, "I can't hold onto you*|" You're heart does, something. Fuck you're not sure if it just crumbled to dust or went cold or shattered or what, but it's shitty. You realize sometimes words just can't fix things, can't change a situation any more than they already have, so you move on to actions. You reach your arms around her and softly pull her into a hug. You just rock back and forth on the mat. You're not sure when or how it happened but now you're both lying on it, spooning. You're the big spoon, which is definitely a first, but you don't think of that right now. You sort of just comb your fingers through her hair, absentmindedly, asking her simple little questions, like what she did today or how her trip here was or if she killed anyone cool lately. She mutters out responses, her voice small, her breathing calmed.

Time passes, eventually you see the sun shining through the windows. You notice and get up to close the shutters before you're both slow-roasted. You grab the remote on your way back, and as you sit down she smiles back at you. It's tired, but genuine. You ask if she'd like to keep watching the movie. "Yeah* that'd be nice*| Looks like you'll have to put up with me for the day anyways* not like I can leave for a bit*|" You put on a mock villain voice and make some joke about finally having ensnared the dashing olive-blooded rogue, and it actually earns you a small chuckle. As you hit play, she arranges the blankets back over the two of you, then wraps a toned arm around your waistline and pulls you to rest against her. Her commentary is scarce for the rest of the flick, but you think the way you two huddle together, just enjoying each other’s existence, says more than enough.

You still don't understand troll romance all too well, but you like to think you're getting the hang of it, night by night, day by day. <>

**Author's Note:**

> So turns out making sure you keep up trickier typing quirks is an exercise in patience and suffering. I like to think this was in character, and didn’t make the MSPA reader actually talk because of that, but I didn’t want to be to presumptuous and slap that on there. Once you do, it assures a certain level of quality, usually. Gotta make sure I can reach that level before I start claiming to.


End file.
